The Creative Correlative

As my sanity wanders dangerously close to the abyss, my creative urges start gurgling and swishing in all directions (and unfortunately nowhere in the vicinity of my next novel). My bones ache to create something, and in this case, something useful and fun. My neighbor, a dear young friend, is having a baby shower this weekend. It will be her first little bundle of ecstasy, so I really wanted to do something special. But let's start with the end of the process...the card.

Today, we have a brief oasis before the scorching 90's return tomorrow, so I spent most of the afternoon outside—eating, reading, drawing, PAINTING. Yes, it's been years, and I mean years, since I got the watercolors out for my own enjoyment. So today I decided to paint a card to go along with the gift I made for little baby Neighbor. And Ghost Daughter has been inside far too much, so I roped her into bringing her new paints out on the patio, too. And voila! Her work of art. She painted it for her brother, his "welcome home from Boy Scout Camp" gift. (ouch...missing him again...)

While she splattered sky all around and grew a watercolor flower and a happy camper, I sprouted a jungle. Now remember, it's been years since I did anything like this, so I'm a little wobbly with the brush...and the pencil. But, I wanted to carry over some of the fun of the gift I made for baby neighbor. Yes, the theme is a baby jungle. No particular reason. I just know that my friend is doing the nursery in yellow and green and they don't want to know the baby's sex until he/she is born. So off to the fabric store for something baby, but unisex. A Jungle! Why not? I found these cute fabrics and they just seemed to fit. And with the final approval of Ghost Children, the theme for a brand new baby quilt was born (sorry about that pathetic pun!)

So, since my writing impulse has been stunted by all this waiting and worry, my creative flow had to find another pipeline, and that would be the quilt. Little baby monkeys, elephants, giraffes, lions, and hippos all peeking through the jungle foliage. How fun! So, in a week or so, I had made a pin-wheel quilt, complete with hand-sewn binding. (Let's hope it doesn't unravel and become a baby hazard...hand-stitching is definitely not my talent!) I love putting these together, though. I've done quilts for both my kids, and they still use them. So far, they haven't come apart...after 8 years, too!  Cards are always hard for me. I tend to like the funny ones (Farside and other twisted humor) or the clever ones. But this time, I really wanted something that drew the color and brightness from the quilt, so I made my own. And, as part of the gift, I'm also including the board book Goodnight, Gorilla. I don't know what the jungle swallowed me up on this one, but I hope it's not too much for my neighbor. There is still a lot of baby here and whether it's a boy or girl, every little schpunt loves jungle babies...right?

Yes, there is a high correlation between creativity and sanity. At least between my creativity and my sanity! When I get stuck in the worry bog, I simply have to find a way to make something new so I spend less time racing through that doomsday scenario over and over again. Ah...creativity therapy.

HOMESICKNESS

We've got it bad in our house. In so many ways. First, Ghost Son is away at camp for the week, the first time he's been on his own for more than a night. We shipped him off Sunday morning with a footlocker full of necessities, including a can full of Slim Jims and a cell phone. He called twice the first day, full of excitement and eager to start working on those merit badges. He sounded so happy and ready for his week away. Sure, we could hear a little homesickness in his voice, and he owned up to it, but said he knew he could handle it.

Last night...no phone call. (Poor Ghost Girl) We figured he was having too much fun and that's just fine.

Today, he called after lunch. There it was. That crack in his voice. That shadow of disillusionment behind the words he chose to describe his experience. Our boy isn't shy about admitting his feelings, and he fessed up to his homesickness right away, but he was handling it, and he wasn't going to cry or carry on. The reason he didn't call last night: Thunder storms moved through the area and knocked out the power. He didn't realize that he could still use his cell phone!

The news for today: he lost his wallet already and was put in a swim class with younger kids, which makes him feel like a loser. But he's still trying to be positive. And at least he is sharing a tent with one of his best buddies.

But here's the killing kind of homesickness: last night, he told his buddy that we might be moving. It was a tough moment, and they handled it like men. They made a pact to visit and stay in touch, no matter what happens. This kicked me hard in the guts. I hate that our little guy has to worry. Worry about where home will be. I hate that he's had to know about it this so long. To be dragged through the anxiety that we have been swimming in for the last 8 months. No 11-year-old should have to feel that. But we had to tell him what was going on back then because so many changes were already set in motion.

This will all pass soon. We know it. But there is going to be a lot of adjustment no matter what the final outcome is. Any day now, we should have an answer. Any day...

There are a lot of positives on the horizon, but even positives mean change and adjustment. I'm ready to find our home, wherever that may be--Georgia, Philly, Arkansas... Just tell us where home is. Soon...

OOOO! The Ax Has Been Stayed Just a bit Longer!

Yes, it's true. I got an email yesterday--and it wasn't a rejection! It was a congratulations-on-making-it-to-the-final-round-and-could-you-please-do-some-revisions email! This little gem concerns my very first novel, which inspired the name of this blog (the title of the book will be revealed later). The editor's comments were dead-on, and I really hope she'll give me a chance to work on it with her. I've done the revisions already and just have to clean up that nasty synopsis (bane of my existence!).

As for book #2--still waiting. In the meantime, I've sent it in for the Rutgers One-on-One Plus scholarship. Hey, gotta keep getting it out there, right? Something is going to break soon. It's got to!

4:45 pm--Update! I just sent the revisions and synopsis off to BTP. Back to holding my breath. Man! I'm getting dizzy...

A Breakthrough: Character

How many writers begin with an event, the primary plot of the story? How many start with the setting? I have to say that I've done both. In my first YA, there was vague idea of plot floating around, but it really started with a place. My second YA was sparked with a curious historical event that took me to amazing places. As I begin my third novel, I am starting from a whole new place--Character. Yes, character was important in my first two books, but perhaps I should have spent a little more time with them before kicking them out the door. As I await the ax on those two, it's certainly something to consider for revisions.

And now, for YA #3. I begin with character, and with a twist: this is my first stab at a first person narrator, but the story is not about her. It's about someone she's watching, inescapably drawn to her, flitting in and out of her world (literally). A little like Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby. Since her voice is telling the story, I really need to get under her skin and walk around in it for a while. Oh, and one more kicker--she is a real person, not just a fictional character. No pressure there, huh?! Her role in history was rather limited, so that will give me a little room, but the character she is watching has a significant historical presence. OOOO {squeal!} this should be fun!

Now...I hope my family are bracing themselves for a wacko mom, running around the house, muttering to herself. (well, I guess that's nothing new!). This time, I really want to flesh out these characters before I even start writing. So back to my English teacher roots...free-writing, lists, sketches. Anything to "get" these gals in my brain...

And in my heart.

A Handful of Hope

Yesterday was a busy day, full of those wonderful little bits of hope and joy that keep you going. First, I attended the SCBWI Editors panel in Bethlehem, where I met some fabulous writers and editors and caught up with friends I haven't seen in a while. Sally Keehn is just a lovely woman who truly loves good storytelling. She was a delight and a great source of inspiration. And Debbie Dady was another fabulous writer who has recently moved into our area from Colorada--we are so lucky! Paul Acampora organized the editor's day and was a terrific host. I love his stories about the Rutgers One-on-One conference! We heard several first pages and the editors gave their responses, most of them very good. There was some quality work offered for their review and the editors offered some solid feedback. I also got a lot of encouragement in my own paper chase for the elusive book contract from these wonderful writers who shared their experiences.

When I got home, an exotic treat awaited me in my lonely old mailbox. Finally treated to something other than bills, my trusty post box yielded a gift my most loyal editing client. We just finished his dissertation, which was submitted for publication in May, and he sent me a treasure from Japan as a "thank you." A beautiful pen that writes in both black and red (perfect for the editor/revising writer!). He is from Japan and we have often corresponded via email across oceans of distance (literally). It's been a joy to work with him, and this little treasure will be a dear reminder.

And the biggest news...da dada DA!!!! Presenting the world premiere of the latest short by C. M. Scott...BIONICLE STORY II! Yep, last night Connor unveiled his latest stop-motion film at the EPES Talent Show. And how awesome is it when not just kids, but parents ask you for your autograph?! The Scott family was puffed up with pride, and shortly after the show, Rita's Italian ice! Keep an eye on Youtube in the next few days. This blockbuster will be making its way to cyberspace soon. What a night...

Now, back to hoping for that book contract, for that perfect job, for a little financial breathing room...

Could it be a Peach?

We need lots of good vibes and prayers. DH got the call and he has an on-campus interview at a small college in Georgia! At this point it is hard to know what to wish for. I don't know what the pay will be, and it's a huge move. But...DH would still be a professor, which really is his true calling. We told DS that this might be a possibility. He got teary and expressed himself so clearly. He would really rather not move, but he wants his daddy to have the kind of job he likes. And that's actually a big deal to DS. He has seen us work and embrace our jobs (even my Waldorf insanity) and he has come to value that sense of truly enjoying your work. He knows that there are financial considerations, but our little guy is a remarkable, thoughtful soul who has always been "spiritually" in tune. He gets the idea that money isn't everything.

So, our task now is to learn as much about the area as possible. I've checked out the school system in the town itself-- I'll wait to comment on that one. Housing prices are decent. DH is learning as much about the college as he can and figuring out what he will talk about in his "scholarly presentation." In the meantime, he is still chasing down non-academic job possibilities.

We love it in PA, but Georgia could be grand as well. It would certainly be better for my RA-ravaged bod. But I want my DH to be happy. If he's not happy, none of us will be. I can write from anywhere. So there it is. Please pray that the right answer will come...whatever that may be. (And pray that it hurries!)

In a word: STRESS

I hate that word, especially when it comes to my kids. My son is 11 years old today (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUDDY!) It just kills me that he came home from school yesterday, his face drawn tight with tension, and his big brown eyes sitting in a shallow pool of unshed tears. "I'm just so stressed, Mama."

It seems both his personality and the merciless tack of the NCLB crap are taking their toll on my not-so-little guy's self-esteem. He explained that a lot of work has just "gotten away from him" and he is so afraid of ending the year with a bad report card. Like is father, DS can be a bit scatter-brained and disorganized. That's how assignments slip through the cracks. He is also in the gifted program, which is a pull-out program, and that means he has to initiate requests for work that he may have missed. Okay, we can work on that. But the pressure that is generated by the whole "gotta pass the test, gotta excel on that damn PSSA..." above all else (including learning). That is crap! Plain and simple.

I know that he as arrived at that age when things like grades and success matter in more tangible ways. I know that I cannot protect him from stress and pressure and all that comes with growing up, especially the oncoming train wreck known as adolescence. We had a great talk about things and came up with a plan for handling the end of the school year, but I deeply resent the extra pressure that NCLB has created for the kids. Even more, I loath the attitude that so many administrators are taking--"Gotta save my ass so these kids had better perform!" I won't even go into the hell my kindergardener went through last year--when a 5 year old stresses out about an 89% on a math test?!!!! What 5-year-old should even know what a math test is, let alone and 89%?! I mean, come on...at 5 years old, she can barely count to 20!

Sorry about the rant...just had to blow off a little steam. It's just that DS is such a laid-back guy, so when I see the stress actually get to him, it tears my heart out. He has a lot to deal with right now--potentially moving to a new state, changing schools, moving away from friends...And no clear plan yet. Oh yeah, and we just had the sex talk, too! Poor kid...

Query Weary...

By now, I think I've finally figured out what the query is about. That doesn't mean I write them any better, but I think I'm getting closer to the underlying element that has been so elusive. Be ME. Yep. It's that simple. The last two that I wrote were genuinely Ghost Girl queries, full of my real voice and experience. Now whether that will attract an agent and/or publisher has yet to be determined. But I feel better about my query, as if I truly own it.

So how did I finally get here?

First, I did my research. As you've already guessed, I surf the blogosphere not only regularly, but passionately. And I have two excellent launching pads: QueryTracker and AgentQuery. Here, you sort through the agents that "do your thing," whether that be historical fiction, chick lit, urban fantasy...whatever. Then you can get profiles on each agent and find out if they are open to queries, email or otherwise. Read their links and blogs. You might be surprised to find that agents are actual people--with real life experiences, predilections, and opinions of their own. (Don't forget to check The Blue Boards for updates on response times and other info).

Next, I found myself and put it on the page. The more you learn about an agent, the more you see that there is a good fit and a not so good fit. Which one will mesh with your personality, not just handle books like yours? When you figure that out, it's easier to let yourself spill across the page and relate to your agent professionally but also personally. I've spent so much time worrying about making the right impression that I forgot that I have to represent myself as well as my work, especially to an agent, the person who will be your advocate, your support, your biggest cheerleader out there in the market. He/she should know you. Afterall, you are embarking upon a partnership, and with any luck, one that will last a long time.

So, I have just sent out a query to probably the best match I've found so far. I hope she thinks so too. And so the wait begins yet again. Here's hoping...

Blue Boarders Rule!

Hurray! For all of you fabulous Children's writers and illustrators out there, support Verla Kay's website and discussion board--haven for all of us who bash our heads on our keyboards every day, trying to write or illustrate something wonderful for kids--go to Cafe Press and order your magnet or button today!

Verla has built one of the friendliest, most informative forums for kid-litters, full of supportive colleagues, stimulating discussion, and spot-on industry info that has helped me in more ways than I can name. It's more than a discussion board; it's a community. She also has some great articles and tips for writers and artists, links and info for teachers and for kids, too. And she's done this all on her own dime. So give a little back and show off your blue!

A Taste for Tea

Anyone who knows even a little bit about me knows that I am a huge tea drinker. Winter, spring, summer...doesn't matter. I pretty much always have a hot cuppa nearby, especially if I'm writing. As some of you may also know, I often have a certain buddy nearby as well. But who would have guessed that my fuzzy little muse liked English Breakfast Tea as well? (Decaf, of course) As you can see, she more than likes it. Poor little thing, though. She didn't expect the mug warmer action. When she hopped off my cup and put her tiny foot on that black pad...Ouch! It doesn't stop her from hopping back in my tea, though. Stinker! Perhaps I should take one of Maisie's dainty tea cups and pour a wee bit for Ruthie. A tea party!

My DH's Latest Contribution to Cultural Studies

Yes, it is on its way. Set to be released in September, The Porning of America, my husband's razor-sharp assessment of the state of America in a Porn-inflicted society, will soon be on the shelves. And what other timely example could punctuate his and co-author Carmine Sarracino's keen observations than the whole Miley Cyrus/Vanity Fair issue? (I'll leave you to google that one.)

Yes, the topic came up in Kevin's literature classes, and he unflinchingly embraced the conversation which yielded even more interesting perspectives from a young audience. Dare we tread on the wholesome image of a Disney diva? We don't have to. Yet another youngster treads that tightrope between innocent pop icon and wannabe more than a teen queen. How do child stars navigate the tricky, often salacious minefield of childhood stardom, especially a 15-year-old girl, if they want to find work after they turn 18? I'll leave that discussion to my husband. If you click on today's blog title, you will see his blog on the Beacon Press site, outlining some general reactions to the Miley Cyrus debacle.

While it is not a diatribe or a didactic treatise on the evils of pornography, their book paints a crisp picture of the pervasive influence of porn in our society...right down to how it stalks not only us, but in its most subtle (or not so subtle) forms, our children. Is there a difference between erotica and porn? Absolutely. But where is the line and is it always clear?

This may seem like a strange and antithetical relationship--the guy who writes about porn and the chick who writes books for kids. I write books for children. Not sexy books. Not "edgy" books. Compelling books. (at least I hope I do). But the argument Kevin makes is not completely divorced from my world of YA fiction. Or from our roles as the parents of two young children. Just think about how porn connects with mainstream childhood the next time you pick up that Bratz doll or the latest Mary Kate and Ashley fashions at Walmart...

My Preview Audience...

I know I've blogged about Ruthie in the past, my erstwhile sidekick who shares my writing desk...and my bookshelf! She's pretty selective about her reading, and very interested in education research...

Sadly, I have neglected two very important members of my literary audience who see me through my mad re-enactments of the most dramatic (okay...sometimes inane) scenes in my WIP. So meet Whitman (yes, he's named after the poet). He has a bad habit of chewing up my daughter's plastic toys--the basement is a sea of FP Little People amputees--so he is not allowed to come all the way down into the basement.

Despite his banishment from the lower depths of my "office"/playroom, he sits sweetly on the step at just about eye level while I work. On occasion he snores or sighs, but he's good company when the house is really quiet. He's fairly opinionated, too. That's how I developed my thick skin against rejections.


My other buddy, Daisy. A true pound puppy, we adopted her from the human society in Indianapolis more than 7 years ago. She's the sensitive one. I can always count on her to laugh or cry at the right time in my manuscript. I don't know what I would without these little guys. Tea party guests, Halloween costume pals, roll on the floor and love 'em up buddies, they are such a part of the family and my literary critics circle. Just a small tribute to these three incredible companions. If you don't have a furry critique partner, I highly recommend it!

All Things Can Tempt Me

All things can tempt me from this craft of verse:
One time it was a woman's face, or worse--
The seeming needs of my fool-driven land;
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand
Than this accustomed toil. When I was young,
I had not given a penny for a song
Did not the poet sing it with such airs
That one believed he had a sword upstairs;
Yet would be now, could I but have my wish,
Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish.

William Butler Yeats, 1910

With all the discussion of procrastination, I just couldn't resist posting a piece from my favorite poet. Though Yeats never had to contend with the allure of the internet or television, nonetheless, he, like most of us, struggled with a host of daily distractions that begged and beckoned, drawing him away from his creative purpose. And don't we just ache for those feeble sirens to call us away when our task is already frustrated? Blogland, chatrooms, email--it's all just a more concrete manifestation of Yeats' desperate breaks with inspiration.

But I have to say that somewhere within that bog of distraction lies the seed of inspiration. Sometimes I just need that kick start, that little phrase innocently uttered online to spark an idea that grows into a paragraph and then a chapter and then the book. No matter how disconnected that idea may seem, the whole sense of connection that I get from my little distractions actually feeds my writing...somehow. Diversion does that crazy dance that misdirects our brain long enough for it to find the answer (or inspiration) in our subconscious. Oh, jeez! Yeats would be proud of me now!

Two for the Road

After some questionable accommodations and service at our fabulous retreat, the time has come to consider other options for next year's venue. I've been busy hunting down potential spots, trying to keep things in the Poconos and keep them intimate and inspiring, and I lit on 2 specific possibilities. What's that you say? Come on up and check it out? You'll hook me up with a room for the night and a tour? Great!

Bummer...my cohort has a big commitment this weekend and can't go with me, and we can't find babysitting so DH and I can go together. I guess I'm on my own. Ah but wait! The film maker. What about him?

Yes, my little Spielberg accompanied me up into the Poconos for a look around, and what a blast! I love having that quiet time with my son, especially when it involves an adventure. Our last big adventure took us to New York City to the movie set of Spiderman 3, where my little guy was an extra in the film. This time we were sampling menus, hiking into the woods, evaluating the size and spring of the beds (always fun with a 10-year-old), and taking in the "sense" of the place, which is absolutely key to the success of this journey.

We found a fabulous place just 20 minutes or so from our former location, and it has everything--facilities, atmosphere, service, good food, free-roaming deer and even a few bears! It may have been more fun having my son there than DH (shhhh!) because he really wanted to see everything and try out all the amenities. Looking and seeing was not sufficient for him. He's all about the whole experience. That something unmatchable about our little jaunts, and Connor said, "Mama, can we do this every year? I mean just have a weekend together, just you and me?"

Yes, my insides rolled up into a big mushy knot and my eyes welled up. Absolutely! Daddy can have Boy Scout Camp and all that, but these little journeys will be for me and my boy. What a tremendous gift this weekend offered. Beautiful weather, a successful search, and priceless mama/son time that still pulls my lips up into a grin every time I think about it.

A BIONICLE STORY -- the Blogspot Premiere

Coming to you from the clickety-clackety streets of Amish Country....The directorial debut of C.M. Scott (aka Manshark) and his film A BIONICLE STORY.



C.M. wrote, directed, starred, photographed, orchestrated,...made this movie almost exclusively by himself. Just a little voice-over help from Daddy, and a few handy-cam scenes that he couldn't film himself (because he had to be the star!). There are over 600 still photos in this 90 seconds of action, each requiring a steady hand and a mountain of patience to manipulate the figures with microscopic precision. He even story-boarded the project before he began filming. All this, just about a month before he turned 10. (You can't tell I'm proud, can you?)

Now at work on his second feature (again, a month before his birthday--11), he hopes to finish this one in time for the school talent show again. He had such a response last year--kids asking for his autograph, a troupe of 6th-grade groupies following him all over the playground (not bad for a 4th-grader!).

Speilberg, Scorcese...look out!

Ahhhh...Retreat!

The scent of pine trees and lake water. The ticka,ticka, ticka of ladybugs scurrying in and out of every room. The hum of passionate writers and illustrators comparing rejection letters, success stories, and manuscripts. The roar of semi-trucks racing up the road outside my window at 3:00am. Ah, the retreat weekend had finally arrived. Unfortunately so had a completely new staff at our favorite Inn, which meant some rough spots in our idyllic jaunt into the mountains. Let's just say, McDonald's could have provided more consistent food and service. (Ouch...I know that's harsh!)

But the faculty was one of the best ever. Our speakers were impeccable, truly inspiring, and the editors were straight-forward and tons of fun. I feel truly blessed to have connected with T.A. Barron who shared such a love for storytelling and for the earth. Beautiful is the only word I can think of to describe this man. He is so at peace with who he is and so passionate about writing. We swapped stories and he shared the brand new cover of his latest book--Wow! I found a real kindred spirit in Mr. Barron, as well as what I hope will be a common editor!

I can't say enough about Jordan Sonnenblick. We had so much fun--although I'm sure he thinks he has a couple of stalkers, between me and Laurie! His story of how he wrote his first book, Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie, was awe-inspiring. It will melt your heart...and make you want to thump the man! That's one writer's journey I would like to have. Jordan has the keenest sense of humor. We shared some war stories from the teaching trenches, although now he has quit his teaching job to write full time. I'm sure he is sorely missed. He's my kind of teacher--and writer!

Gene Barretta shared his journey as well, and oh how cool! Be sure to look for the author's photo on the jacketflap of each of his books--you'll be able to watch a little sprout grow...

The editors all had interesting points of view, and many of the workshops were more hands-on this year. Patrick Collins, the art director from Henry Holt gave the most helpful PB dummy construction workshop. Such a talented, unassuming man. Genuinely interested in seeing what other writers and illustrators were doing.

So...now the real work begins--planning for next year. Yep, that's right, folks. I'm in charge of the next retreat, and already I have a handful of possible sites. Sadly, the location where we have rested for the last 16 years just isn't going to cut it. So, I will be building this one from scratch. But I'm excited and I think I'm up to the task.

Hope to have more news, soon. Publishing news that is.

Time to Retreat...

It's that time of year--the Poconos Retreat. Time to breathe in some creative air and soak up some inspiration from my writing pals as we pig out on gourmet food and get back on track with some dead-on editorial guidance. Now that I've been at this for a few years--7 actually--conferences have taken on a very different feel to them. I used to be jumping with nerves and self-doubt, but eagerly devouring every morsel of critical advice and writerly inspiration I could scrape up. I don't know if you would call me a war horse yet, but I feel that I've ridden these trails hard and heavy and at least 100 times by now. Okay, maybe not 100. But in some ways I have arrived as a writer. There is still plenty of new stuff to hear, lots of mistakes to correct, oodles of connections to make, but I think the most satisfying part of this weekend is the camaraderie. That sense that we've all stretched ourselves until we are paper-thin, fought for our babies--our literary progeny--until we can't bear to look at those tatty manuscripts any longer. Of course we know that after a few months in a dark drawer, those pesky little pups will whine until they get our attention again.

But a weekend of editorial panels, workshops, and writers sharing their million war stories on the road to publication somehow revives me. There is a strange affirmation to having your first page shredded by 5 or 6 editors in front of 100 other people, all bleeding from their own wounds. Some on life support. But it reminds me that yes, I am a writer. And yes, I do love it.

Somebody Please Help...

This gorgeous piano needs a home. We may or may not be moving, but we have no space for the stunning piece of history. And we can't afford to store it. The kind people who have been looking after her now need their space back for renovation. I hate to give up this gem, but if anyone out there knows someone who is looking for an antique in exquisite condition, send them my way.

Sad...very sad.

15 Years and Counting--Quite Happily!

Yes, indeed. My man and I have been married 15 years today. It's amazing how fast the years have flown by. They haven't all been full of bliss, but they have been exactly what they should be. We've seen the tough years and the joyful, some met more handily than others, but always with love and respect. I gave my beloved a book of letters, My Dearest Friend, the correspondence between John and Abigail Adams. Amazing--a country struggling to be born, a sometimes crass and arrogant man laboring to bring about the revolution, and a woman of infinite strength holding her man together from afar. Yes, Abigail really was the foothold, here. The first letter in the book is absolutely lovely:

October 4th. 1762

Miss Adorable

By the same Token that the Bearer hereof satt up with you last night I hereby order you to give him, as many Kisses, and as many Hours of your Company after 9 OClock as he shall please to Demand and charge them to my Account: This Order, or Requisition call it which you will is in Consideration of a silimar order Upon Aurelia for the Like Favour, and I presume I have good Right to draw upon you for the Kisses as I have given two or three Millions at least, when one has been recd, and of Consequence the Account between us is immensely in favour of yours.

John Adams

My man gave me exactly what I wanted--tulips. They are my favorite and were our wedding flowers all those years ago. So no matter how frustrated we are feeling about the job situation or waiting and waiting for word on my 2 manuscripts, we know that the foundation of this life is real and solid. And all I can say is, never settle. The right one is so worth the wait.

The Girl Scout Promise

This weekend, my daughter and I embarked on her very first camp-out adventure with her Brownie troop (all 7-year-olds). Don't get me wrong, I love camping, but with my RA, I wasn't sure I would make it through a cold weekend in the woods. Fortunately we had 2 sunny days in the 40's, brooking 50, so it wasn't too bad. And we had a lovely, recently refurbished, heated cabin. Luxury! I was proud of my girl, working hard to help out with the chores and keep up on the hike. She couldn't wait to record some of the sights in her "journal". She drew the tree, the spider, the bear track (more likely a raccoon). It was precious. Of course she was the last one to bed that night. And then the adventure really began...

All the girls are asleep, except Maisie of course, and the troop leader and one of the moms are sitting out on the porch. Suddenly the mom comes in and whispers that she saw a man standing by the latrine (11:00 at night). The GS hosts are called. They call the police. After about an hour of scouring the woods and talking to the witness, the police suggest that we move the girls down to the Host house, which is closer to the road and 3 stories high. Then they utter those words that first struck terror in my guts--"We don't want another Amish School shooting situation..." What?!!!!! Holy crazy cow! One strange guy in the woods I can handle. Creepy, but I can handle it. But dredging up the Nickelmines tragedy--that's too much. That was only 8 miles from my house. And you never truly know fear until you have children.

So, we tell the girls that the heat broke. Of course it made no sense when they found themselves in a musty, freezing alternative a few minutes later! But we got through the night, me with maybe one hour of sleep, Maisie with 4 or 5, and in the morning we dragged ourselves back up to our cabin and through the next day and had a fabulous breakfast and lunch, learned how to make firestarters and tie knots and how to build a fabulous campfire.

So there is the adventure the Brownies never knew they had...and they won't know until they are much older!